Drabble Noodle Soup for the Soul
by Teller1789
Summary: Four drabbles.
1. Connotations

Disclaimer: I don't own Starsky and Hutch or any of its characters.

Connotations 

When Hutch thought of the word "unacceptable," his mind's eye usually conjured up a swirling torrent of black water whirl-pooling down into oblivion. Usually, this mental conjuration was accompanied by a second one of his father hurling a suitcase labeled "expectations for my son" into the rioting waters. In his mind, Hutch would watch the suitcase full of expectations go round and round in the maelstrom, battered relentlessly by the water until it finally sunk away into nothing, down beneath the bottomless currents of unacceptability.

Hutch shared all of this with Starsky once. To his surprise, Starsky hadn't come back with a smart remark. Instead, he'd told Hutch how the word "summer" made him think of bullets and bloody cement and sun-baked hemoglobin. That was the end of their conversation and Hutch had never brought it up again.

Now, sitting in a waiting room, blood on his hands and underneath his fingernails, the only thing Hutch can think is "unacceptable." This time it has nothing to do with raging waters and disappointed parents and everything to do with lopsided grins and red tomatoes.


	2. What It Is

What It is

_It is not what you think. _

Most times when people ask Starsky about his job, they want to know about the car chases, knife fights, gun battles, arrests, and drug busts. Starsky usually just laughs. He's been on the force for twelve years, seven of those as a detective, and "yeah" he says, he's been in a few car chases, knife fights, gun battles, arrests, and drug busts. But mostly? Mostly, it's paperwork. Some days he and Hutch don't even leave the station because they're buried under months and months of backlog. It's not like a t.v. show, he tells them, where there's excitement every second. Nope. Actually, it's not what you think. Most of the time, it's pretty boring.


	3. Plans

A/N: The first part of this was inspired by Third Eye Blind's song _The Background_ whose lyrics I have borrowed (and changed ever so slightly) for the purposes of my story. Also, "Plans" is somewhat of a crossover with my other great fandom. Bonus points if you can guess who the unnamed partner is. I'll give you a hint: SPN RPF (not RPS, there is a difference and though I'll read either, I only write gen.)

Plans 

They had arrived at the airport in San Antonio and been greeted by the biggest person either detective had ever seen. The kid couldn't have been more than twenty-six, but he looked over six-feet tall and his shoulders were massive.

'Right,' Starsky had thought, 'Texas."

Looming over them, the agent had introduced himself as Padalecki. Starsky noticed that the kid seemed down. Not depressed, not exactly. But he had a quietness about him that Starsky recognized as a symptom of tragedy. The kid had had it rough.

Later, they had spoken with Padalecki's captain, a balding man named Kripke. Apparently, the kid had been one of Kripke's best officers: vibrant, energetic, brilliant; up until six months ago.

It was all in the report. In Black and white. And red.

Sad story short, an inner-city gang called the Hell Hounds had gotten a hold of Padalecki's partner. They had torn him to pieces. Literally. There was barely enough left to bury.

Starsky hadn't been able to look at Padalecki the rest of the trip. Knowing what the kid had gone through, Starsky couldn't met his eyes. It hurt too much.

Now on the plane home, Starsky glanced over at his own partner. Hutch was sound asleep. _'Don't leave me like that, 'kay Blondie?' _He thought and turned to look back out the window. He was still haunted by something Padalecki had said, _the only thing_ the kid had said about his partner the entire time.

"_The plans I make still have Him in them."_

Starsky knew about that.

_Dad...Terry... _

Impulsively, Starsky reached over and grabbed a handful of Hutch's sleeve. _"The best laid plans of mice and men,_" Starsky quoted and clutched tighter.

Plans II

On rainy days or after a bad case or when he's sitting in his greenhouse or when he can't fall asleep, Hutch'll think about Them.

Them. They. The Victims.

He'll think about things, Their things. Not about the stuff he and Starsky investigate, but the other stuff.

To Them, it had been a regular day (Their last one), filled with regular worry and regular joy.

_Things to do and people to see, not a thought to Eternity. _

All those unfinished plans...sometimes They really get Hutch down.


	4. Little things, Big things

Little Things, Big Things

It's the little things that Starsky notices.

**Hutch likes to go first. **

At least, he likes to go first into risky situations. Starsky notices. Always, its one hand on the trigger, ready to protect, the other hand hovering behind ready to grab or pull. Always to defend Starsky.

**Hutch doesn't mind going last. **

Whenever they eat out, Hutch lets him go first. Whenever they order in, Hutch asks him what he wants on the pizza first, and then he orders. Always last, at least when it matters.

**Hutch is an ass. **

He argues with Starsky about little things. Every little thing. "No Starsk, it's pronounced 'La-go-see.'" "See Starsky, I told you. The body **i**_**s**_ 70% water." It's annoying. It's infuriating. It's all the arguments Starsky didn't get to have with his real brother after his dad died. It's the little things and it's perfect.

It's the little things that Hutch ignores.

**Starsky likes trivia. **

The really weird stuff, too. Everyday, it seems, he's telling Hutch about the longest hotdog eaten by an Asian during a thunderstorm or about the guy who got arrested on Decatur Street in New Orleans because he broke one of Louisiana's oldest laws about riding an over-sized bicycle with a live rooster taped to the handle bars or "hey, Hutch, did ya know that... .003% of all car accidents in Canada involve a moose or that more people die from vending machine accidents than shark attacks each year? Did ya know?" It's the pointless things and it drastically tries his patience.

**Starsky doesn't mind making a mess. **

Starsky doesn't mind making a mess at Hutch's place. Sure, he flips out when Hutch forgets and leaves **one **Nutri-Bar wrapper in the Torino's back seat or if Hutch accidentally knocks over one of Starsky's kitschy apartment "adornments." He can't stand the mess. But if it's Hutch's stuff, Starsky doesn't mind. Not at all. How many precious, fragile plants have fallen victim to Starsky's carelessness? It's the hypocritical things and somedays, Hutch doesn't know what to do.

**Starsky is an ass. **

Every time Hutch can't stop it and nothing happens anyway, he feels betrayed. Starsky charged into traffic without looking. Starsky pushed him out of the way. Starsky put down his gun. Starsky stopped, stepped, blocked, protected and most of the time he's okay. Every time potential disaster turns into a little thing, it opens the Door to What If? and Not this Time. It's the little things that chip away at his Walls and Starsky's already circled seven times.

It's the big things that Starsky overlooks.

**Hutch doesn't fit. **

He doesn't fit. Not with Starsky, anyway. That's what Everyone says. They count the ways: Jew. WASP. Curly. Flat Iron. Dark. Light. Passionate. Aloof. Chili Cheese Onion Burger, extra grease. Cob Salad, hold the dressing. Little things. Big things. It goes on. And he doesn't understand why Everyone is so confused, because he can see underneath all the dirt and down there with the worms, their roots are all grown into each other.

**Hutch thinks. **

Too much. Starsky sees it. He watches the thoughts go through Hutch's head and physically manifest themselves in bowed shoulders and furrowed brows. He wants to tell Hutch to stop. Just stop. It's worked for Starsky these past couple of years. Every time the shadows get too dark and the gloom too familiar, he just stops. Goes for a drive. The beach. A book. Anything. But Hutch thinks. And sometimes Starsky worries that one day Hutch will think himself into a hole. And sometimes Starsky thinks he won't be able to dig him out.

**Hutch doesn't get it. **

Christmas. Hanukkah. Holidays. Hutch can't understand why Starsky celebrates. Starsky knows why Hutch doesn't. Too many disappointments as a kid in a big house full of things that weren't happiness. Yeah, Starsky gets it. But Hutch doesn't. Starsky wishes he would because it's one of the big things, the ones he overlooks. Maybe if Hutch knew that it wasn't about the gifts, maybe. If he knew that the holidays were the last time Starsky had a whole family, maybe. But Starsky can't say it right and so he gets Hutch an ant farm and hopes he understands.

It's the big things that Hutch admires.

**Starsky doesn't fit.**

Into any category Hutchinson ever had for people. Before Hutchinson met Starsky, he filed all people into two categories: those who wanted something from him and those who would eventually want something from him. His dad had taught him that early on, yes sir. Hutchinson knew what to expect from people or what not to expect. And that was unconditionality. Everything came with or for a price. Kenneth Hutchinson knew that. Then he met David Michael Starsky. And then he became Hutch. And honestly, Hutch has no idea where to fit Starsky except into every part of his life.

**Starsky thinks.**

Differently than most people. Hutch can't really describe it. Starsky's mind is something that must be seen in action, not relayed second hand. He watches it work everyday. Twirling behind eyes the color of Starsky, because Hutch doesn't know anything else in the world that shade of blue. It's a big thing, one of the things that Hutch admires. And he can't figure it out. Exactly. It's the most beautiful, unsolvable thing Hutch has ever tried to understand and it's perfect.

**Starsky doesn't get it.**

He doesn't. He doesn't seem to understand that after twelve years as a police officer, you're supposed to be jaded and corrupt. Angry at the world. Bitter at the cosmos. Hutch feels it, niggling at his cerebellum. The frustration, the pointlessness, the weariness. Starsky seems immune. He's been shot, poisoned, kidnapped, robbed. Yet. Still. He just flashes a solar flare smile and moves forward. Hutch doesn't get it. But sometimes, when it niggles hard enough to let the shadows loose, Starsky novas into the darkness and Hutch can see again beneath the dirt all the way down to their tangled roots.


End file.
